The Beginning from the End

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avatar Torm
Retired Moderator
Level 31 : Artisan Scribe
106
War. War never changes.


Many years have now passed since the portal opened, since the world was bathed in the purple flame that accompanied the demons. None could have foreseen the coming holocaust. The world continued its lofty climb up the ladder of progression.


Until the rungs gave way beneath its feet.


As the skies turned black and oceans boiled, all economic productivity turned to survival. Mineshafts were swiftly depleted and left abandoned, soon to be ravaged by the great ravines which tore the earth asunder.


Those who sought to live took refuge in huge subterranean chambers, known as strongholds. Deep underground, these vessels of salvation held many who had fled from the apocalypse – now exiled from the world that had for so long been theirs. The strongholds were sealed and thus for many the devastation of the surface never came.


For those who remained however, the nightmare continued. As the portal faltered, the hour of nature began to take its toll.


The joining of two worlds that should never have touched had an unforeseen effect on the very fabric of the universe itself. The tectonic plates shifted with speed the likes of which had never been seen, the seismic activity shuffling the biomes with unpredictable motion. A great flood swept the face of the globe, drowning once mighty civilisations in an instant. Tonnes of displaced sediment cascaded upon the settlements that remained on the surface, eradicating any trace of habitation from the lands tainted by the dry tide. The portal collapsed – severing the chains binding reality – and the world was plunged into the abyss of eternal night.


Yet the mould of humanity persists, a new bloody chapter at hand. The destruction of the surface was not, as many had predicted, the end of the world…


In the years following the end of days the denizens of the strongholds began to stir. Stepping into the ruins of the old world, alliances began to form. Some banded into clans, determining to maintain the values of humanity and civilised society. Settling into villages, often alongside the indigenous peoples who had since claimed the land, the human race began the lengthy task of reconstruction.


Though in other locales the residents of the strongholds rallied under a different regime; a regime of tyranny and murder. From the decaying corpse of the wastes, the plague began to fester in the form of gangs and warring tribes – bent on conquering the remnants of the world for their own twisted gains. No longer safe in their beds, those who have made their home in the villages place their faith in the strength of their bows, and steel-suited rangers. Meanwhile the corruption of the end persists, and both clan and tribe are tormented by creatures most foul each and every night.


Yet from the depths of the ocean, a new threat now awakens. The mysterious Guardians prowl the waves, gathering strength and collecting resources. Unseen by the wasteland, a submerged empire rises – motive unknown, but nefarious to the core.


The once green pasture has descended into a hive of scum and villainy, with scarce a moral to be found. Yet through even the densest of clouds the sun may still shine. Life’s journey looks bleak beneath the ash of annihilation, yet for one slaver the best and worst is yet to come.


Welcome to the Wastes.

Jukebox
CreditDecember 2015 Nuclear Winter Skin Contest for motivation/inspiration, Aviators for the jukebox song.
Tags

1
02/18/2016 10:37 pm
Level 50 : Grandmaster Answer
BIO
Ooo This is superb
1
02/19/2016 6:32 pm
Level 31 : Artisan Scribe
Torm
Thank you, glad you enjoyed. =)
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